by Green, Jeri
Thirty minutes later, Skip had unloaded 24 cases of feminine hygiene products on Hadley’s kitchen floor.
“Thanks, Skip. I think.”
“No, Aunt Hadley. You really helped me out. With Pixie deciding to double the contest prize, the aisles down at Pixies-Squares are a lot less cluttered. Thanks a million. Gotta run. The truck’s coming this afternoon. No telling what surprises Dorie’s got waiting for me.”
Hadley gave Skip a peck on the cheek. He raced out of her house like his briefs were on fire.
Hadley’s cell rang, again.
“Maury,” Hadley said. “Get over here! I won that contest at Pixies.”
“You did what? Hadley, tell me you didn’t stuff that contest box with entry slips. It’s not goat cheese this time, Hadley.”
“No,” Hadley said. “Of course not. I only filled out one measly entry form. I’m pushing sixty. Why in the world would I need all those feminine hygiene products they were giving away? I wanted to win the kitty litter. Pixies is crammed full of that stuff. For kitty litter, I would have stuffed the box. I never thought in a million years I’d win. But it was a contest. I just couldn’t resist. You busy? Come over, help me unpack this stuff.”
“Be there in a sec, Sis,” Maury said.
Hadley looked at the mountain of boxes. The cases were huge. How many products had she won? And Pixie had doubled the winnings!
“Hadley Jane Pell! It looks like a warehouse in here!” Maury said.
“I know,” said Hadley. “That’s why I needed your help.”
“I brought a box cutter,” said Maury.
“Good. I didn’t want to use my best kitchen knife on all this cardboard,” said Hadley.
“You gonna have a truck load of cardboard for the recycling place, if nothing else.”
“Ain’t that the gospel truth. Well, time’s a-wasting. Let’s inventory this bounty.”
“What in the world is this stuff?” Maury asked, unpacking the first box.
“I don’t know. You and I haven’t needed products like these for a long time. Let’s see here,” Hadley said, opening a small box.
Out popped a small silicone cup.
“This feminine hygiene product is flexible and easy to use,” Hadley read from the leaflet that came inside the box. “A menstrual cup is placed . . . oh, Maury. You put this thing inside you and wear it for up to twelve hours. Pour the mess in the toilet and wash it and reuse it.”
“Ouuu. Hadley, I don’t know. That sounds a lot like drinking milk out of a dirty glass.”
“No. You wash it, but by-granny, I think I’d want it sterilized or something before I popped it back in. Ugh. Call me old-fashioned, but I’d be afraid my fingernails would fall off.”
“Nonsense,” Maury said. “That’s the same thing you used to say when you saw me changing Skip’s diapers. How many you got?”
“Twelve dozen,” Hadley said.
“Twelve dozen!”
“Maybe,” Hadley said, “I could tie them on the end of a fishing pole and use them as kitty toys for Onus. Or put them on my eyes, like this, and use them to block the light out when I’m napping.”
“You look ridiculous,” Maury said, holding up a cup and pinching the flexible thing like an accordion. I still think I’d wear a pad, Hadley. I just wouldn’t feel safe with just this. Would you”
“I’m glad I don’t have to think about it,” said Hadley.
“Well,” Maury said, “that uses up one or two, but what about the rest?”
“I don’t know,” said Hadley. “Let’s see what’s in these other boxes.”
“What in the world is this?” Maury said, cutting into a large cardboard box with her cutter.
“An anti-panti,” said Hadley.
“What?”
“For the gals who hate wearing panties but want to wear their jeans multiple days,” Hadley said, reading the brochure.
“You gotta be kidding me,” said Maury.
“If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin,’” Hadley said. “Apparently, you put this little dot of fabric on the inside of your jeans.”
“No thong lines!” said Maury.
“Mary Maureen! Stop putting those images in my head. Tell me you aren’t a thonger.”
“It’s my business what I wear as underwear. I know you go in for those big, old weather balloons, but granny panties aren’t for me. I’m a modern woman, Hadley, whether you like it or not. Besides, Bill likes them.”
“Stop. Whoa. Too much information,” Hadley said. “You want these. I got quite a few cases.”
“No, thanks,” Maury said. “Bill likes slinky, but invisible? I think he’d think he needed to see the eye doctor to have his bifocals changed.”
“Well, let’s see what other lovelies I won,” Hadley said. “Butt Bleach.”
“Butt what?”
“Do blondes reeeeally have more fun?”
“Stop, Hadley. How many?”
“Oh, looks like about four dozen bottles.”
“Oh, Hadley, this is a lot of stuff. What are you going to do with it all?”
“I dunno. Look, Maury!” Hadley said, diving into a newly opened box. “A funnel. Next time you and me take a road trip, you can stand behind any tree and relive yourself! No squatting.”
“Hadley!”
“I know. What was Dorie on when she ordered all this stuff? Speaking of drugs, has Bill made any headway finding out who killed Kyle Winthrop?”
“I don’t know, you know how closed-mouth he is when he is on a case. But wasn’t it awful about Kyle getting murdered in his own bed like that?”
“I know,” said Hadley. “But I’m not surprised. That boy’s been nothing but trouble since the day he was born.”
“Kyle’s not a boy, anymore,” said Maury. “He was 25. A few years older than Skip.”
“I read about it in the paper, this morning,” Hadley said. “Murdered in his own home! I told Onus I’d be afraid if he wasn’t such a good watch cat.”
“Hadley, don’t joke about this. Bill says drugs are taking over. Even way out here! He says that there are no good jobs for our kids around here, anymore. Young people who grow up in these mountains only want out. If they stay, a lot of them fall prey to drugs.”
“I know,” said Hadley. “I think about Skip.”
“Me, too. So far, Bill and I have nothing to complain about.”
“Skip’s a good boy,” said Hadley.
“But he’s restless. Something’s wrong. I don’t know if he’s on the outs with his new girlfriend, Katie, or what.”
“Who do you think might have done Kyle in?” Hadley asked.
“I don’t know,” Maury said. “The list is endless. Drug dealers. Some of Kyle’s buddies. He didn’t hang around with Boy Scouts. Anyway, if you’re okay here, I gotta run and fix dinner.”
“Sure. Thanks for your help.”
“Not a problem.”
Maury stood at the door, hesitating.
“What is it?” Hadley asked.
“Maybe this year would be a good year to drop our names from each other’s Christmas list,” Maury said.
“Not on your life, little sister,” Hadley said. “And I want to be the one to decorate your tree this year, too. Can’t you just imagine all these beautiful silicone cups and polka dot anti-pantis hangin’ on that tree? Oh, it will be magnificent! Displayed in your living room window will be a lighted advertisement for hygiene!
“I know! We’ll bleach the tree. A blonde Christmas tree! Oh, Maury! You’ll be the talk of the neighborhood!”
“Hadley, if you don’t stop right now, I’m going to shoot you! Don’t forget to lock your doors. There’s a maniac running loose in Hope Rock County.”
“But you forget,” Hadley said, “I have Onus the wonder cat. Best guard cat in the county.”
“Oh, pooh,” Maury said. “And lock your doors! And while you’re at it, figure out what you’re going to do with all those boxes. If you’re not careful, your house will loo
k like that pack rat, Eustian Singlepenny’s.”
“Beanie and I are going to start that job, Monday. I’ll let you know how it goes. Onus! Come here, you fierce feline! I may need you to eat this wicked sister who’s threatening to shoot me! See you later, Maury.”
Those last statements were said in jest, but Hadley couldn’t help but feel uneasy. A murderer here in little Hope Rock County!
Scary beyond belief.
Chapter Nine
“Hadley,I need your help,” said Virgie Winthrop, standing in Hadley’s front doorway.
“What is it, Virgie?” Hadley asked. “I’ll do whatever I can, you know that. I’m really sorry for your loss. Have y’all finished the arrangements for Kyle’s funeral?”
“Not yet,” Virgie said. “We’re waiting for Bowey Hill to release his body back to us. Thanks. ’Bout all anybody can do for us is pray.”
“Well, I’ve been doing that,” Hadley said. “What do you need?”
“I know you and Kyle had that run-in, a couple of years back. If you say no, I won’t blame you. He stole from you. Ain’t no use sugar-coatin’ the truth. ’At dope turned that boy inside out. He started out sweet ’n’ good natured, ’en he turned into a rattler. I loved ’im. He was blood. But I shorely didn’t like ’im. Still, I’m an old woman, and I need peace.”
What does Virgie want? Hadley hated to hear the rest of this conversation. Kyle Winthrop had broken into her garage, stolen lots of Harry’s tools. He did it to buy more drugs, and the only reason Hadley had recovered some of the stolen items at all was because he’d had engraved his name on the things.
“I hate to ask, Hadley, but I was wondering if you wouldn’t help me. I was there that day at the bazaar. I was at the library when you got Rayna to confess to killing Eustian. You been away to school, Hadley.' You’re smart. I’ve always knowed that.”
“Oh, Virgie, that was just dumb luck,” Hadley said.
“Dumb luck ain’t got nuthin’ to do with it. You are good people. You he’p anybody. You’re from good-hearted stock, Hadley Pell, ’n’ you knowed it.
“I knowed what Kyle was. He weren’t good fer nuthin’. Ruint. ’At dope took over his whole life. But even if he weren’t worth a plug nickel, I still need to know who done '’im in like ’at. Bill’s a good man. I knowed he’s kin, but he’s gotta sheriff this whole county.
“I need somebody who kin put a bead on this problem and figgur it out. I need a good brain on it like you got. Kyle was my blood, ’n’ a dawg deserved better’n what he got.”
“Virgie, I can’t go messin’ into a police matter,” Hadley said.
“I ain’t askin’ ya to git into no trouble. But you’re out ’n’ about. You hear things. All I’m askin’ is if you hear somepin’ that clicks ’em cogs in that head a yourn, let me know, okay?”
“All right,” Hadley said. “I’ll be sure to keep my ears open, Virgie.”
“That’s all I’m askin’. Maybe you kin h’ep, maybe not, but at least you’re tryin’. That’s all this old lady kin ask from a body. And thanks, Hadley. You’re a good friend.”
What in the world have I done? Hadley wondered.
She couldn’t trouble herself too much. She was just helping a neighbor. That’s how it was in these hills. Not like a big city where nobody wants to know anything about anybody. Strangers or family. In the mountains, folks helped you out. It didn’t matter who you were.
“Onus,” Hadley said, after Virgie had left. “I got to go clean out a house so gaumed up, you may not see me for weeks.”
Onus meowed.
“Don’t worry, old bird. I’m just fooling. I’ll be home in time to get your cat food dish filled come suppertime. You keep a watch on things while I’m gone, you hear. Don’t let any hooligans in here. I’m locking the door, just to be safe. Beanie and I may be late, so don’t worry.”
Onus silently slid over to Hadley and rubbed against her leg.
“Oh, pretty boy. Afraid I’ll stray too far. Thanks for marking me as yours, Onus. I’m sure that no self-respecting cat will dare to come up to me today. I’m yours, big fella, and now that you’ve scent-marked me, I won’t forget it.”
As Hadley locked the door, she smiled. Onus’ scent would be like perfume. She was certain that by the end of the day that sweating like horses would be a perfect description for both her and her friend, Beanie.
So, a little kitty musk didn’t hurt a thing.
* * *
Kyle Winthrop grew up on welfare and prescription pain pills. He was small for his age and prone to fights. He didn’t do well in school. Kids picked on him. His ears stuck out. The biggest thing about him were his feet, and when the kids found out his toes were webbed, poor Kyle was the butt of every joke and prank for years. As a small boy, Kyle was starved for attention. Good or bad attention. It didn’t matter to the child. Adrenaline was Kyle’s first high. He would do any crazy stunt, no matter how dangerous, just to have eyeballs focused on him.
His mother, Claire, always had prescription bottles lying about the house after the accident. Kyle stole his first pills from her at age nine. How could he not help but get into trouble? Virgie brooded. How different might her life had been if Cleve hadn’t been dead set they go to that dang amusement park! But that was so long ago. Claire had been a child then.
It was Claire’s 15th birthday. Virgie noted her daughter, like so many children of the Appalachians, had outgrown that stick-skinny, poor-white-trash look that so many of the children reared on too little food seemed to have. Claire was blossoming into a fine girl. She was going to be a looker, Virgie could tell. Cleve called in sick from the mine that day.
“You’ll lose your job, Cleve” Virgie had warned. “They ain’t gonna put up with yer work brickle ways. You call out at the drop of a hat. Loafin’ here at home more ’n you are at the mine.”
“You hush your yap,” Cleve yelled. It was barely nine, and Cleve was already on his fourth beer. “That coal will be there waiting for me to blast it out, tomorrow. Today’s my little girl’s birthday. We gonna celebrate, and we gonna do it up right.”
Virgie already knew what Cleve had in mind. MEGA Mountain Funland Park. It was all Cleve had talked about for the last several days. Claire was not enthusiastic to go. Virgie and she had planned to spend the day baking her birthday cake, but because Cleve would not let the idea drop, Virgie had bought her a plain, small store-bought cake at Pixies.
“Come on, Virgie,” Cleve said. “You drive. I got me a nice, cold brew I wanna nurse on the way over.”
“Claire!” Virgie yelled out the back door. “Put yer hand to the plow, Claire. Your daddy’s rarin’ to go!”
Claire came running up from the barn. She had a sick calf penned in a stall.
“I’m coming, Mama,” Claire said.
“Run a brush through your hair, hon. Get the straw out. We don’t want them to think we ain’t never been nowheres.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
They all packed into the rusty, old station wagon. Virgie cranked the car. The belts whined, but the motor turned over. Cleve let out a big belch and nursed his beer.
“We gonna have us a fine time, baby girl,” he said, wearing the stupid grin he always wore when he was on a bender.
At least, Virgie thought, Cleve’s a happy drunk at the moment. Virgie drove slowly, carefully. This was her first time out to the amusement park. In fact, although the park had been opened for several years, it was the first time any of her family had ever been.
Virgie’s stomach was full of butterflies. She hoped she wouldn’t embarrass herself on the rides and scream like a banshee. Worse still, she hoped Cleve would behave. She glanced over at her husband and prayed a silent prayer that he would.
Please don’t let him turn ornery. Dear Lord, she thought, what if he loses his breakfast on them rides.
Virgie chose not to think about it as she turned into the road leading to the park.
“Mama,” Claire said, getting out of the car
, “look at that.”
The big, white clown’s eyes stared at them.
“That’s quite ‘a somethin’,” Virgie said, her level of uneasiness soaring off the charts.
Behind the white head, a huge dark cloud loomed.
“Maybe we should come back another day, Cleve,” Virgie said. “That’s a nasty cloud boiling up.”
“Aw, it ain’t nuthin.’ Come on you yellow chicken,” Cleve said. “Swall’er ’at knot in yer throat. This is Clarie’s special day. Let’s go.”
“Come on, Mama,” Claire said, hoping to keep her father in a good mood. “I can’t wait.”
Cleve smiled broadly, throwing a limp wrist over his daughter’s shoulder.
Virgie’s dislike of MEGA Mountain Funland Park was immediate. That black cloud did not help one bit. It was an omen. Virgie knew it.
As she walked up to the clown head entrance, her skin crawled. This was a very evil thing. An idol. And it was alive. Virgie had felt its spooky eyes on her the minute she got out of the car. If it had not been for the fact that Cleve was half lit, she would have told him so and demanded to go home, at once.
But Cleve was on the verge of turning bad, Virgie could tell, so she kept quiet and walked somberly up to the entrance of the large, blood-red, gaping mouth.
Cleve gave the ticket man the money. Cleve was all puffed up like a banty rooster. Money had that effect on him.
“Three tickets,” the man said, handing Cleve his change. “Let me stamp the tops of your hands. That way, if you need to leave the park and go out to your car, you can get back in.”
They all put forth their hands and got a large, blue-ink impression of that evil-looking clown stamped on them.
“There you go,” the man said. “You’re ready to have some real fun now. Enjoy your time at MEGA Mountain Funland Park.”
He brushed them into the clown’s mouth so that the next group in line could hand over their hard-earned cash.
Claire stuck close to Virgie. The inside of this demon’s mouth was cavernous. Both she and Virgie jumped out of their skin when the riotous laughter started. It sounded tinny. Virgie was sure it was Satan’s imps laughing at them. She wanted to run back to the car, but something in Cleve’s eyes told her to plod on.
